Hunter

When the Centaur Stone Spear vanished from sight, Baine's warning roar followed.

A naked wave of malice rushed at him, and alarm bells immediately rang in Sian's mind.

He carelessly threw the crossbow in his hand aside. Without bothering to dodge, he drew the hand axe hanging from his waist and hurriedly slashed through the black air.

Stone Spear emerged from the darkness, gripping his spear horizontally with both hands as he easily blocked the axe.

Sian's heart jolted. The axe shifted slightly in his palm, its blade pressing against the spear shaft as he chopped toward the Centaur's arm.

Yet the strength of his one remaining hand was simply insufficient. Stone Spear casually loosened his grip, swung the spear, and knocked the axe blade aside. The tremendous force numbed young Sian's wrist, and he nearly lost his grip on the handle.

A wide sweeping strike followed, and Sian barely dodged it.

Taking advantage of the Centaur's open guard, he spotted an opening and gritted his teeth as he chopped toward his right ribs.

However, his combat experience was far too lacking for him to recognize that this was a deliberate opening Stone Spear had left for him.

The axe struck the Centaur's exposed abdomen hard, yet strangely, not a single drop of blood splashed out.

A terrifying grin spread across the Centaur's filthy face. With an upward sweep, he knocked the Tauren's axe flying. By the time young Sian realized what had happened, the sharp spearhead was already thrusting toward his throat.

The little one rolled miserably across the ground, and the spear cut a gash across his neck.

He struggled to his feet. Blazing pain came from the wound, but a hunter's agility had saved his life.

Stone Spear slowly emerged from the shadows. The spot where he had been struck was completely uninjured, covered by a thin brown shell. The axe had left behind only a shallow white mark.

Seeing this, Sian's gaze flickered. He reached into his clothes, slipping something into his sleeve.

The next instant, he abruptly threw a small pouch. Yet the Centaur sneered and pierced the ambush with his spear.

Stone Spear gripped the spear and gave it a light downward swing. The pouch was torn in half, and the powder inside scattered into the air, drifting everywhere on the wind.

"Obscuring my vision?" Stone Spear picked up the torn cloth and looked at it disdainfully before sneering. "Panicking already?"

"You slippery stupid cow, compared to your companion, you're nowhere near his equal!"

The Centaur spun his spear as if playing with it, taunting his opponent with an utterly relaxed expression.

This was not really young Sian's fault. It was simply the difference between a hunter's and a warrior's fighting styles.

Compared to a warrior's broad, powerful combat stance, hunters placed greater emphasis on agility and technique. Their physiques determined this. At its root, it was a trade-off between agility and strength.

Classes that favored dexterity had stricter requirements for body weight and build. Blindly pursuing muscle strength and endurance training would inevitably reduce coordination, which was often fatal for hunters who lived by their agility.

Yet one admirable quality of exceptional hunting masters was that they were often humble and clever. They knew how to learn from the wilderness.

In cruel nature, the cost of hunting was extraordinarily high.

For predators on the plains, if they could not capture enough prey while expending the least amount of energy, they would starve to death. If they could not avoid severe injuries while hunting, they would inevitably die from fever and blood loss. If they could not make the best choices every time, they would one day be eliminated by these cruel plains.

Thus, no one understood better than the predators at the top of the food chain how to achieve the greatest gain at the smallest cost.

Throughout the ages, hunting masters had made countless efforts to overcome hunters' weaknesses and find a relatively perfect balance. They integrated the philosophies of shooting and hunting into combat, eventually creating a series of techniques suited to hunters.

The renowned Raptor Strike and Mongoose Bite.

With the support of these fighting methods, hunting masters could be as deadly and dangerous as animals. This philosophy also meant that hunters had an especially great need for technique.

However, when their techniques were evenly matched, or when they could not gain an advantage through skill, a hunter's disadvantages would be magnified without limit.

That was the situation Sian currently faced.

He was not skilled at close combat to begin with. Naturally, his fighting techniques could not compare to Baine's, forged through accumulated training and real combat experience. Facing Stone Spear's attacks, he rapidly fell into a disadvantage.

Sian panted heavily. He drew his spare axe and barely exchanged several more moves with the Centaur. Relying on his decent agility, he tangled with him for a while. Though he did not lose his head, several more wounds appeared on his body.

The spear came crashing down with crushing force. Just as Sian felt he was about to die here, Baine finally arrived.

Baine roared and leaped high into the air, then stomped heavily in Stone Spear's direction. Stone fragments flew, and the ground itself shook.

War Stomp!

Surprise appeared on Sian's face.

Because the move his companion had used was the signature technique the Tauren chieftains took the greatest pride in.

Even Baine was surprised by that blow. He had learned it without a teacher, using the move almost instinctively, as though it had always been rooted in his body.

Yellow light surged across Stone Spear's body again, and he rapidly merged with the earth.

"I have to admit, you two have done fairly well..."

The Centaur's voice came from every direction, as though his incarnations lurked everywhere in the darkness.

Sian and Baine moved together, standing back to back as they warily watched their surroundings. Then they pricked up their ears, trying to locate their opponent by catching the faintest sounds.

"Trying to determine my location by sound? Not a bad idea, but that is simply..."

The Centaur's voice abruptly froze, then suddenly exploded.

"Ridiculous!!!"

Stone Spear's figure leaped from the night like a ghost, his spear viciously thrusting toward Sian's heart.

It was a sinister, greedy strike filled with venomous expectation, determined to skewer both Tauren in one blow.

According to his plan, it would be impossible to evade. Or rather, even if Sian barely managed to dodge, there was no way Baine, guarding in the opposite direction behind him, could avoid it.

That was assuming they had not predicted the direction of the attack and prepared in advance.

Yet reality was so cleverly cruel. Stone Spear's attack missed again.

Sian evaded with a sideways roll, while Baine flung himself away in a most ungraceful dive.

Once they got up, they fled together as though they had planned it beforehand, leaving the still-unreacting Centaur far behind.

Stone Spear stood there with a gloomy face for a long time, then raised his spear. Tauren blood still stained its blade.

He brought the spearhead to his nose and sniffed it. Sure enough, mingled with the bloody smell was an exceedingly faint fragrance of herbs.

Smart hunters were skilled at using marks.

"A scent... is it?" Stone Spear laughed in fury. "Well done indeed!"

He raised both arms in a gesture like a prayer of praise. Brown spread outward from his chest, then extended to his arms, thighs, calves, and finally even the spear in his hand was dyed the earth's yellowish brown.

With just a light snap, the hardened spear broke into two.

Stone Spear abandoned his spear, yet turned himself into the most terrifying weapon. Earth's Gift had even assimilated his flesh and blood, hardening his fists. At this moment, he was the true Spear of Earth.

"It is time to bring this all to an end. I have completed my transformation. Under the supreme might of the Earth Mother, I shall stand alongside the gods!"

Time returned to a little while earlier.

"What? A Shaman!"

Baine cried out, "How is that possible? That bastard kept shooting arrows at us while chasing us all the way here. What kind of Shaman is that?"

Baine was still too young. After all, archers fighting in melee was common sense, and priests often wore plate armor. What was so strange about a Shaman who could shoot arrows? At least he was not wearing plate armor, right?

"I can't say for certain... but my instincts tell me he should be a Shaman."

Sian gently pulled open a slit in the curtain, narrowed his eyes, and secretly observed the situation outside. "Even if he isn't, he can at least use Shaman magic like Stoneskin."

They were currently inside a blacksmith's shop.

The room was dark. By the moonlight coming through the skylight, Sian inspected the counter and found that one drawer had been emptied completely, while the others were locked tight. The owner, Serag Stonehoof, was nowhere to be seen.

The two of them temporarily relaxed. In such a chaotic time, no news was good news.

"Instincts?" Baine scratched his head, unable to hold back a laugh. "You mean that little guy Auntie Tally took to experience elemental affinity when he was young, only for him to fail even the first test?"

Seeing little Baine trying to suppress his laughter, young Sian rolled his eyes. "I was born without what it takes to be a Shaman, all right?"

"Sorry, sorry, I shouldn't have laughed at you..."

Baine hurriedly apologized, but his words soon took on a different tone. "Still, I've never seen anyone the elements disliked as much as you. You really opened my eyes, hahahaha..."

Sian immediately punched him. The very mention of it made him angry.

He loved his mother, Tally Whitehorn. To make her happy, he had aspired to inherit her legacy and become a Shaman from a very young age.

He read countless scrolls and secretly did countless preparations. Even Uncle Hamuul praised him at the time, believing he would become a little genius someday.

His mother had been delighted. His father had not been happy at first, but after Mother's "persuasion," he quickly became happy too. Still, he would secretly advise Sian not to forget training even if he became a Shaman apprentice.

Young Sian understood that his father had always wanted him to inherit the Bloodhoof family tradition and become a warrior, but he regretted disappointing him. Every time, he would stick out his tongue at his father's departing back.

What could he do? He liked his mother more.

Then, on the day they experienced elemental affinity, he watched as the other children around him befriended elemental spirits one after another. Even Baine caught the eye of a silly earth spirit.

He meditated from dawn until dusk, yet not a single elemental spirit was willing to choose him.

That idiot Baine kept showing off to him, and he had been so upset that he nearly cried.

But he did not dare lift his head, because he knew his mother was watching worriedly behind him. He did not want her to see him crying so sadly.

So he silently continued meditating until the stars came out, when his mother smiled and pulled him into her embrace.

Looking at the teary-eyed little calf, Tally frowned and kicked over that irritating little totem in front of them with one hoof.

"We're not becoming Shamans anymore. Mommy will find you an even better teacher!"

Young Sian wailed in his mother's arms. At that time, he thought his mother was the best person in the entire world.

The next day, a valiant female hunter came to their door, with timid little Baine hiding behind her.

Blinking, she told him that her name was Tamara Bloodhoof and that, by seniority, she was young Sian's aunt. Her close friend Tally Whitehorn had told her that a highly talented little hunter lived in this tent.

That was young Sian's first day as a hunter's apprentice, and also the beginning of his friendship with Baine.

"Ow... murder! Someone's murdering a Tauren here..."

Ignoring Baine, who was lying on the ground putting on an act, Sian kicked him in the rear with one hoof. "Stop playing around. Get up and help me find things!"

Baine sprang into a sitting position and awkwardly rubbed his nose.

"Tar, charcoal, and weapons, right?"

Sian knelt on the ground with his back to Baine, searching through things. He did not have time to answer and merely nodded.

"Got it!" Baine smashed a fist into his palm and said fiercely, "Let's teach him a proper lesson! I'm going to avenge that arrow from last time!"

However, his enthusiasm quickly faded, and he seemed a little discouraged.

"I still don't understand what we can do with this stuff..." Baine sighed. "You stabbed an arrow into his eye, but you still couldn't kill him."

Baine recalled their previous encounter. Back then, he had made a fatal mistake. His reckless charge had gotten Sian shot in the shoulder, while he himself had been knocked to the ground.

That bastard had nearly snapped his neck, but Sian had thrown himself at him without regard for his life. He pulled the arrow from his own arm and desperately stabbed it into the Centaur's eye socket, saving him.

The two little ones were immediately sent flying with cries of pain, while the Centaur's twisted body knelt on the ground, wailing and struggling.

For a moment, they thought they had killed him. Yet a horrifying scene soon unfolded.

That monster pulled the arrow from his eye socket. He stared at them with a gaze twisted by extreme pain, but his eyeball was completely unharmed!

Remembering that scene, like a shrieking evil ghost, Baine's scalp tingled.

Hearing his companion's question, Sian paused, then stopped searching.

He slowly stood up, heavily tossed two bags of charcoal onto the ground, and said softly, "If that kind of attack meant nothing to him, then why didn't he kill us immediately?"

Baine froze for a moment, then shook his head in confusion.

Sian sighed. "After that encounter, why did that Centaur, who had been calmly toying with us in the palm of his hand, suddenly chase after us like he had gone mad?"

Baine became even more confused. Yet Sian still did not answer his question. Instead, he walked over to the tall forge, reached out to feel its temperature, and asked another question.

"Baine, do you yearn for power?"